


forgetting you in a cabaret

by ShippingEverything



Series: but i'm afraid that i, well, i may have faked it [1]
Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Bad coping mechanisms, Being the best man at the wedding of the love of your life, Casual Sex, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers to Boyfriends, How To Make Bad Decisions When You're In Love; a novel by Hans Rilow, M/M, Weddings, also so that i can convert more ppl to helchior hell, and yet here we are, apparently, dumb boys in love, i have no idea where this hanschen's characterization came from, inspired by the lovely folks on twitter, this was supposed to be a quick oneshot w no feelings and written smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-05-06 13:58:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5419658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippingEverything/pseuds/ShippingEverything
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melchior and Hanschen are 1. in love with their respective best friends, 2. being the best men at the wedding of said best friends, and 3. Sleeping together</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. everybody gets there

**Author's Note:**

> fic title from patd's "But It's Better If You Do", chap title from "That Green Gentleman"
> 
> Fic idea from [here](https://twitter.com/sa_confess/status/676116369910472704) (which is my twitter and this post was 100% me, so technically idea from me???). this will be done before christmas and it will only be four chapters, so help me god.
> 
> I am in Helchior hell and i cannot be saved

When the text goes out, Hanschen is in a meeting. The second he gets out, he pulls up his phone and stops. There, in crystalline quality, is Ernst’s left hand with a simple ring on the ring finger. Hanschen stares at if for a bit, but it doesn’t change--Ernst’s pretty long fingers are still there, the tasteful, silver ring with the beautiful inset diamond still sparkles, the text accompanying the picture still sits there happily.

 _I said yes!_ it says, accompanied by a plethora of emojis. Hanschen has other texts, one from Thea (probably about this) and five from Wendla (definitely about this), but he just keeps staring at the ring and the accompanying text. While he’s trying to comprehend this, another text comes through. _Hey would u be my best man?_ Ernst asks and-

And there’s the rub. See, before Ernst (And now, after Ernst), Hanschen didn’t do dating. So when Ernst broke up with him and said “Let’s still be friends,” Hanschen had just agreed, because he _didn’t know what to do during break ups_. He had thought that it’d just pewter out like it did on the movies, but Ernst had _actually_ wanted to stay friends, so Hanschen had reluctantly became Ernst’s Best Friend™. Which leads us to the current situation

 _Hey would u be my best man?_ Ernst asks, and Hanschen _wants_ to type ‘No, fuck you, I’m not coming to your wedding’, but this is Ernst and Hanschen is weak and-

 ** _Of course_** , he texts, **_Who else would you choose?_**

_Idk maybe sm1 who I know won’t embarrass me during his best man speech?_

Hanschen sighs. There are a million things he could text back to that, including ‘Maybe someone who’s not still in love with you?’, but he just says, **_I’ll only tell the best stories._**

Ernst texts back a string of grinning emojis and Hanschen doesn’t respond.

Later, after work, he gets a text from Melchior. _drinks? on me_

**_I hope you have some pretty fucking deep pockets._ **

* * *

 

“An’ he calls me an’ I’m like, ‘It’s a family emerg’cy! I gotta take this’ an’ i pick up the phone an’ he screams ‘I asked him!’ and it’s like,” Melchior pauses in his retelling to take a swig of his raspberry vodka tonic, “There’s this moment, y’know? Like you look at your life an’ you know. You’re _fucked_.”

Hanschen nods enthusiastically, more open now that he’s had half a beer and a shot, “But you can’t say _anything_ because then they’ll know and-”

“Then you’re even _more_ fucked!” Melchior screams, which earns them a few looks, but this bar isn’t that nice and two drunk white guys yelling doesn’t look too scary, so they’re left alone.

“He asked me to be his best man.”

Melchior laughs, sharp and bitter. “Fucking same. I don’t know what I’m gonna say, like ‘Hey, I’m Melchior an’ this is the wedding of my best friend who repeatedly turned me down when we were younger, but I’m _still_ in love with him because fuck me’? Like, Georg and Thea would love it, but Wendla and Mrs. Robel would fuckin’ kick my ass.”

Hanschen shivers at the image. Mrs. Robel is _terrifying_. He waves the bartender over for more shots. “What if we just skipped the wedding?”

“Did you not just hear me? Mrs. Robel. Kickin’ our asses. Puppy dog eyes and pitying looks for _the rest of eternity_.”

“We have to go,” Hanschen sighs. He looks into the violent blue of the shot, wishing that it could give him a way out. “Maybe we can pull a Hallmark movie and break them up right before the wedding and we both get our happily ever afters?”

“Yeah fuckin’ right. You should see Moritz’s eyes when he talks about Ernst.” Melchior sighs wistfully, looking into the distance. “He’s never looked at me like that.”

Hanschen suddenly feels much too sober. He downs his own shot and Melchior’s, savoring the burn in his throat. “Hey, wanna do something _really_ stupid?”

* * *

 

Hanschen wakes up with a pounding in his head and a warm body on his chest. The latter is actually more surprising than the former, but he really hasn’t done this whole ‘Get drunk and sleep with someone’ thing since college ( _Since Ernst broke up with you_ , his traitorous mind supplies, and he deftly pushes the thought away) so the headache is a bit of a shock too.

“Jesus fuck,” The body on his chest mutters and _oh my god, that’s Melchior_ , “It’s so fucking bright in here. Do you not have curtains?”

“Um,” Hanschen says inelegantly. Melchior lifts up his head to frown at him through squinted eyes, his hair mussed from sleep and whatever else it is that they did last night. Their eyes meet and Melchior’s widen in understanding.

“Oh, you don’t remember.” He sits up, stretching and cracking his back and Hanschen has always found Melchior attractive, abstractly, but when he’s in Hanschen bed, completely naked and bathed in morning light, it’s-

It’s different.

“You had like five shots, we kissed, and then we fumbled into a taxi and up to your apartment. We managed to strip down but not much more after that. Like I said, mostly fumbling.” Melchior says all of this calmly, like it’s not weird that they just slept together and made out and Hanschen may be freaking out a little. Melchior gets up, still naked and not even making an effort to get dressed. “You have a Keurig, right?”

Melchior saunters out (And sauntering is the only word for it, with the way that he gracefully steps and the way his ass sways and- Hanschen is _definitely_ freaking out) before Hanschen can answer. Hanschen blinks at the door.

“Okay, Rilow,” He whispers to himself, “You almost had sex with Melchior. Whatever, right? You’re fine. You went through your Melchior phase _years_ ago and you are over this. You’re fine.”

Hanschen gets up, doesn’t slide on any clothes because Melchior didn’t and he doesn’t want to make it awkward, and pads to the kitchen. Melchior is leaning on the counter, sipping a cup of coffee. He tosses Hanschen a K-cup when he walks in and unabashedly looks Hanschen up and down. Hanschen, for his part, looks at the cabinet behind Melchior’s right shoulder, until his eyes catch on Melchior’s neck muscles and drift down to his pecs and follow the happy trail down lower and-

Melchior snorts, and when Hanschen snaps his eyes back up, he’s smirking. “Enjoying the view, Hansi?”

Hanschen feels his face warm up (Which is _ridiculous_ , because Hanschen doesn’t do _blushing_ ) and he tries to cover it with his coffee cup. The way that Melchior laughs is indication enough that it doesn’t work.

“So,” Melchior says, “You’re hot, I’m hot--obviously--and we’re both sad about our best friends getting married. Wanna actually do what we intended to do last night?”

Hanschen considers this, then gives Melchior another look. _He does have_ magnificent _thighs,_ Hanschen thinks, _if nothing else_ (Not that Melchior has nothing else, because he has a _lot_ to offer and-)

“Sure,” Hanschen says, “Why not?”

 


	2. charm your way out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hanschen should know that fake dating is a bad idea but here he is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so it mentions a sex shop and also the fact that melchior gabor 100% has a daddy kink, but no actual sex. this chapter is brought to you by Broadway Karkat and the song Stay The Night
> 
> title from London Beckoned Songs About Money Written By Machines

“What about this one?” Ernst asks, spinning in the bright white suit. Hanschen is wedding suit shopping with Ernst and Wendla, because this is his life now. This particular suit is cut wrong, just like the last five suits have been, but Ernst still looks beautiful. Ernst _always_ looks beautiful.

“The cut is wrong,” Hanschen says simply, “Ask them for something with higher buttons. _That_ is what looks good when you’re all skin and limbs.”

Ernst sticks his tongue out before skipping off to find a salesperson. Wendla spins to Hanschen, a dangerous look in her eyes. She’s been texting since they came in and Hanschen has been 90% sure that she's been texting about _him_ , so he'd really just been waiting for her to pounce.

“Since when are you and Melchior dating?” She asks, eyes sparkling.

Hanschen chokes on the air. “I’m not dating Melchior.”

She rolls her eyes and sticks her phone in his face. _t_ _ell tiny hans that melchi said that tonight is off_ , the text says. The contact name is just a bunch of heart-eyed cat emojis, so Hanschen isn’t exactly sure who it is, but still.

“He has my number, why didn’t he just text me?”

“Ilse took his phone, but you are missing the point!” Wendla says, pointing at him menacingly, “Stop trying to distract me! What was tonight going to be? A date?”

“No, because we are not dating.” Tonight they were going to go to the really shady sex shop off of the highway and scandalize the owners--because Melchior had heard that they were super homophobic ("They own a fucking sex shop!" He'd ranted, "They don't have  _any_ room to talk.")--and then maybe order some chinese food and 'chill', but it was definitely not a date.

Wendla snorts disbelievingly. “Yeah, right. That’s why he cancelled your _date_.”

“He didn’t-”

“Who’s going on a date?” Ernst asks, breezing back in. The suit he’s wearing now is _nice_ , it actually fits him and he’s glowing and Hanschen’s breath catches in his throat so he can’t reply in time to stop Wendla from saying,

“Hanschen is dating Melchior and he didn’t tell _anyone_.”

Hanschen’s head whips around to glare at her, but before he can refute her claims, Ernst makes a high-pitched happy noise.

“Oh, Hansi,” Ernst squeals, “I’m so happy for you! Moritz and I were _just_ talking about how nice you and Melchior would be together, and here we are! Oh my goodness, I have to text Moritz right away and-”

Ernst says more, babbling happily, but Hanschen is still stuck on the way that Ernst had beamed at him, the way that he called him ‘Hansi’ (Ernst has been so so careful, since the break up, to avoid anything that might be construed as too affectionate and Hanschen'd heart flips and-)

“Do you think Melchior would agree to a double date?” Ernst asks, eyes wide and well-meaning. Hanschen swallows thickly.

“I’d have to ask him,” He says even as his mind screams _NO_ , “But I can’t see why not.”

* * *

 

“What the _fuck_ ,” Melchior says, bursting into Hanschen’s apartment like he lives there. Hanschen has no idea when it happened but sometime in the last two months, Melchior has acquired a copy of his key. He’s not quite sure whether or not that’s a bad thing yet.

“Oh hello Melchior. I’m doing fine, thanks for asking. How are you?”

“No, seriously, what the fuck,” Melchior continues, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets for something and eventually pulling out three packs of fruit snacks. “I go out for a nice platonic sleepover with Ilse and Moritz, and I wake up to like a million messages about how quote-unquote 'happy’ everyone is that I ‘have a boyfriend now’. What the fuck?”

Melchior actually makes the airquotes, because he’s dramatic like that, and punctuates his words by tossing gummies at Hanschen’s head. Hanschen catches and opens them without much thought.

“Wendla thought we were dating because you told Ilse to tell me that last night was off. Ernst heard and he was-” Hanschen pauses. Saying that he made up a fake relationship because it made his ex happy sounds really, _really_ pathetic. “He jumped to assumptions and you know how hard it is to dissuade him of something.”

Melchior blinks at him, obviously disbelieving. “Yeah fucking right. Look, I don’t care _why_ you did it, but a little warning might’ve been nice.”

“You didn’t have your phone anyway.”

Melchior huffs. He’s not really that upset, Hanschen can tell because his eyebrows aren’t furrowed ( _And_ , Hanschen wonders in the back of his mind, _When did I get so good at reading Melchior?_ He pushes the thought even further back), but he still doesn’t seem happy, exactly.

“Moritz wants to double date. He and Ernst want to pay for us to hang out and watch them be all lovey-dovey."

This isn’t really news to Hanschen, but telling Melchior that would involve telling him the whole story. "And you...?"

"And _I_ think it'll be torture,” Melchior sighs. “But we all know that I'm a bit of a masochist."

Hanschen snorts, "A _bit_?"

Melchior smiles for the first time since he's came in. It's bright and genuine and it glows in comparison to his previous gloomy, not-quite-sad face. "Look, I don't make fun of _your_ weird kinks, do I?"

"One, _yes_ , you totally do. Two, we can set a date with Moritz and Ernst if you're okay with it. And three," Hanschen smirks, "Do you _really_ want to go into 'weird kinks'... daddy?"

Melchior instantly flushes and makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, the same one that he makes when Hanschen nibbles on his thigh or sucks at just the right spot on his neck.

"I fucking hate you," Melchior says, face in his hands, ears bright red, "Stop kinkshaming me."

"Stop having weird kinks," Hanschen says, but it comes out softer and fonder than he'd like it to. Melchior notices--because _of course_ he does--but he doesn't call Hanschen out on it. He kisses Hanschen instead, soft and hard and quick and slow all at once. It's disorienting in the way that everything about Melchior is and it makes Hanschen's head spin.

"Can I stay the night?" Melchior murmurs against Hanschen's lips after he ends their kiss with a tug at Hanschen's bottom lip.

Neither of them has spent the night since that first, mostly accidental time. Even if it’s 2 am, Melchior has always made his way back to his own place, or Hanschen to his. It's... _Something_ that Melchior is explicitly asking to stay. Hanschen doesn't know what the Something is or how to feel about it, but,

"Please do," He breathes before diving back into the kiss.

The Something will sort itself out, he's sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so obviously Hanschen's Thing is being rly rly bad at realizing when 1. his sex relationships are turning into More Than That and 2. feelings.
> 
> thanks for reading i hope u enjoyed it :))))


	3. you can just follow my smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the double date plus some

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short bc theres another part that i just CANNOT SMOOTH OUT so.
> 
> title from Irresistible by Fall Out Boy

“This is _such_ a bad idea,” Melchior says through a grin, waving as Ernst and Moritz approach their table. “Like I literally cannot stress how horrible this is going to be.”

Hanschen agrees, of course, but he can’t say as much because both he and Melchior signed up for this and Ernst and Moritz are already here.

“Hi!” Moritz bubbles, because he’s _always happy_. Hanschen remembers disliking Moritz back when they were all kids, but nothing like the hot embers of resentment that Hanschen can feel now.

“Hey guys,” Melchior says and shifts into someone else, the version of Melchior that’s Moritz’s best friend and _totally_ doesn't have a crush on him. Moritz shifts his sunny smile onto Melchior and Hanschen thinks that he can actually feel Melchior’s heart melt. The resentment stirs deep in his gut.

“And it’s so great to see you, Hanschen, I feel like we never talk!”

 _There’s a reason for that_ , Hanschen thinks. Instead, he nods politely and says, “Yes, we’ll have to change that.”

Ernst’s eyes light up, “More double dates!”

There’s a part of Hanschen that wants to agree immediately, but Melchior replies before he can curse them to more suffering.

“Let’s get through this one first, yeah?”

The double date is, for all intents and purposes, just as bad and Hanschen had thought that it would be. Nothing particularly horrible happens, but watching the love of his life and his fiance feed each other cheesecake is less than ideal. Still,

“That went better than it could’ve gone.”

They’re walking down the sidewalk away from the restaurant. They could’ve grabbed a cab but Melchior says that there’s a ice cream cart two blocks down that has a whiskey flavor, and they both could use it right now.

Melchior snorts, the subdued version of him gone with Moritz and Ernst. “Yeah, they could’ve had literal sex on the table.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Hanschen says. They hadn’t even kissed, so it couldn’t have been that bad, but he has to admit that they were suffocatingly in love.

“It _was_ ,” Melchior huffs, “Ernst is going to want to go out on another one. And _you_ can’t say no to him.”

They’re at the cart. Hanschen doesn’t reply for a second. He’s not insulted, because Melchior isn’t exactly wrong, but more… betrayed? That’s what it most feels like. Which doesn’t make any sense, because he and Melchior are barely even _friends_ , much less the type of friends that can betray each other and-

Hanschen chances a glance at Melchior, right as Melchior licks a stripe of his ice cream and makes a nearly obscene sound. It’s not the same sound that Melchior makes in bed, Hanschen knows that first hand, but when he sees the blush on the salesman’s cheeks and the satisfied smirk on Melchior’s face, he can’t stop the sharp twist his gut of, of-

 _Jealousy_ , he thinks, applying the word to how he’d felt all dinner. The rolls of hatred for Moritz were probably more accurately jealously, but for whom?

 _Of whom, indeed,_ he thinks as Melchior writes his number down for the salesman and throws him a wink. The tug is back. _I’m fucked._


	4. move along in some new fashion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wendla is the best thing in our lives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YIKES its been a while. title from PATD's "New Perspective"

He calls Wendla as soon as he gets home. He’s been avoiding her because Wendla is great but a bit _much_ when she’s worried, and with Ernst’s engagement and the whole Melchior thing, she’s been more worried than usual.

She answers after the first ring.

“Hanschen Rilow, you better have a good excuse for ignoring my texts and calls, you’re lucky I didn’t just show up at your place! I haven't seen you since the suit fitting and _honestly_ , is it that hard to just-”

“Wendla,” He cuts in, “I need your help.”

There must be something in his voice, because Wendla stops. “What’s wrong, Hanschen?”

Hanschen’s mouth is suddenly dry, his throat suddenly blocked. He swallows thickly. “How did you know, when it came to Ilse?”

“Know what?” Wendla asks, but when he stays silent she makes a small noise of surprise. “Oh! Oh, _love_. Hanschen, sweetie, I’m coming over right now.”

“Wendla, _no_ ,” Hanschen sighs, “Just answer the question, you don’t have to come ove-”

“I’m on my way, see you soon, Hanschen!” Wendla cheerfully calls before hanging up.

“Goddamnit.”

* * *

 

Wendla is at Hanschen’s apartment in less than thirteen minutes, which is impressive because she lives fifteen minutes away, on a good day. She comes bearing ice cream and chips and a battered copy of _Relationships for Dummies_.

“Why do you-”

“Ilse brought it when we started dating and she gave me her blessing to pass it on to you,” Wendla answers and then when Hanschen opens his mouth, she cuts him off with, “I know you, Hanschen. You need it.”

Hanschen tries to argue but the words, the lies, are stuck in his throat. He takes the book.

“What do I do?”

“I mean, tell him?” Wendla shrugs. “I mean, I doubt that your boyfriend would mind that you’re- Hanschen? What’s wrong?”

Hanschen buries his face in his hands. He should’ve known that this would come back to bite him in the ass. “We’re not dating.”

“What was that?”

“Me and Melchior, we’re not… not dating.”

There’s a moment of stillness and then Wendla starts hitting Hanschen with her handbag. “ _What the heck, Hanchen_! I can’t believe you, you _lied_ to me, you dick.”

Hanschen holds up his hands to try and stop the barrage, “I wouldn’t say I _lied_ , I’m not the one who started the rumor.”

“But you allowed us to believe it! Goddamnit, Hanschen, I can’t believe this.” Wendla sighs deeply and leans back on the couch. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, well, we already knew that,” Hanschen says, “What do I do?”

Wendla pulls Hanschen towards her, making him slump awkwardly in the seat so she can force his head against her chest in what would be a comforting move, if his spine wasn’t bent in half. “I don’t know, but we’ll work it out.”


	5. stay for as long as you have time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm officially a high school graduate! I intend to finish this fic in the next month but idk yall. pray for me.
> 
> y'all can thank ao3 user philiphamilton for commenting "boi," on this fic and reminding me that I forgot to post this update this last weekend. This update was (finally) finished as a part of my Quest to work on/finish fics that my dear friend Zoe is into bc its Zoe's birth month, so expect to see more of me in the SA ao3 tag this month (probably too much), usually in the form of one-shots or chapter updates.
> 
> Title from "Casual Affair" by Panic! At The Disco, I hope you enjoy and stuff

Seeing Melchior now that Hanschen knows is... different. He’s not sure if Melchior can tell, not sure if Melchior could _ever_ tell, but…

Hanschen would hesitate to say that the change in the way he acts around Melchior is because he’s in love--because Hanschen suspects that he’s had these _feelings_ for a while, despite his inability to recognize it--but he knows that he has to get himself together before Melchior notices; for all that they joke about Melchior only caring about defeating modern capitalism, the guy is almost abnormally perceptive.

He wakes up early to get ready and read a bit of the book Wendla gave him and so he has to hide his longing look in his coffee cup when a boxer-clad Melchior stumbles out of Hanschen’s bedroom, hair mussed and with a bit dried come still on his chest. There are hickeys, _so many hickeys_ , on Melchior’s chest and neck and even on his thighs and Hanschen _loves_ that there are some in places that Melchior can’t easily hide, that others will see them and think that Melchior has Someone.

 _Melchior doesn’t have_ anyone _but a casual fuckbuddy_ , The most realistic, cynical part of Hanschen’s brain says, but Hanschen has gotten shockingly good at ignoring it recently

Melchior blinks sleepily at Hanschen, then frowns and says, “You’re up?”

“I was going to wake you up soon, you have a meeting early today, right?” Hanschen walks over and hands Melchior a thermos of coffee, resisting the urge to brush back Melchior's messy hair.

“You made me coffee?”

Hanschen can feel the back of his neck warming up but he resolutely acts like nothing’s wrong. “I was making my own so I figured that it couldn’t hurt.”

“You have a Keurig.”

“And, shockingly enough, I can figure out how to put enough K-cups in to make two cups of coffee.” Hanschen says, still pretending this is normal despite how very not normal it is. “I'm sure it's difficult for you to comprehend, but I _can_ do nice things, sometimes.”

“That's not what I- Hansi,” Melchior sighs and Hanschen’s heart jumps into his throat. Never before has a nickname been able to melt him like this, never before has he hated a nickname this much. “I _know_ you're nice; for all that you act like a dick, I know you're soft.”

Hanschen, now blushing violently as Melchior smiles at him, forces a scowl and lightly hits Melchior in the chest. “You have a meeting. Go take a shower so you can get back to yours and get dressed.”

“Chill out,” Melchior says, turning to grab som sugar out of one of the cabinets, “I have a few pairs of slacks in your closet and I can borrow one of your shirts.”

“ _What_?” Hanschen--though he is loathe to admit it--squeaks.

“Yeah, it'll be a little loose but-” Melchior turns back to Hanschen and takes in his ashen face and shocked expression. “Oh, you meant the clothes thing. Well, I just figured that since I spend a decent number of nights here anyway, it's easier to just keep some stuff here so I don't have to run home every morning. You can bring some stuff over to my place, if you want, or I could move my stuff, or-”

“No, no, its fine!” Hanschen interjects. His voice is still too high, shocked. He clears his throat and tries again. “It's fine. I just… Hadn't noticed. But you can keep them there, maybe even bring over a few shirts so you don't have to steal mine?”

Melchior grins. “Sure thing. But I probably should shower,” He says picking at a flake of come and grimacing. He pauses before looking up at Hanschen through his lashes. “Want to join me?”

Hanschen knows he should say no. Wendla would want him to say no, the relationship book would probably tell him to say no, and he just generally knows that spending more time in an intimate setting with Melchior isn't going to help anything, but…

“Come on, Hansi,” Melchior whines, “It'll conserve water.

Hanschen sighs and rolls his eyes but he can feel a smile tugging at the sides of his lips. This is a bad idea and yet, “Fine, if it'll get you to leave me alone.”

Melchior whoops and kisses Hanschen and Hanschen, despite Melchior's _horrible_ morning breath, finds himself melting into it, entranced. Melchior pulls Hanschen towards the bathroom and Hanschen focuses on forcing the dopey grin off his face.

 _This is_ such _a bad idea_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then their coffee whent cold because they forgot it and Hanschen had to get dressed _again_. Also can someone just shove these boys' faces together? They're literally moving in together and they both still so dumb why
> 
> Comment, kudos, etc, thanks for reading!


	6. i'm not the desperate type

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they continue to be dumb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hanschen rilow sleeps in lingerie pass it on (his outfit is inspired by the incredibly skimpy My Junk costume for Hanschen in the dwsa previews ([HERE](https://www.instagram.com/p/BA7xp3_zOjT/?taken-by=springbway))
> 
> title from "7 Minutes In Heaven" by FOB, chapter inspired by jessica <333333
> 
> ALSO we have EXCITING DEVELOPMENTS like [fanart by juedou on tumblr](http://juedou.tumblr.com/) and a [fanmix](http://8tracks.com/hatchergold/i-will-help-you-swim)!!!!!!!! thank you so much to both of them and to anyone that is still reading and enjoying this.

Hanschen may be mostly asleep but he still shoots up in bed and grabs the bat he keeps by his nightstand when he hears his front door clang open. When he hears stumbling and soft cursing, his grip on the bat only tightens. A quick check on his phone confirms that it's 2:16 and more noises from his living room confirm that he's probably going to die tonight. He slips out of bed, tightly holding onto his only weapon. He looks down at himself, in a pair of briefs and his favorite stockings. He mentally curses.  _ Did I  _ really _ need to feel hot when I went to sleep? Why couldn't I’ve worn real pajamas instead of lingerie? _ He creeps closer to his bedroom door. The person who's probably going to murder him is crashing into more stuff and Hanschen can't help thinking  _ At least I'll look hot when I die _ . He swings open his bedroom door and almost brings his bat down on-

“ _ Melchior _ ?” Melchior Gabor--flushed, disheveled, crawling on the ground of Hanschen’s apartment like he belongs there--blinks up at Hanschen.

“Oh hey, were you up?”

“It two in the morning. I was happily asleep before you decided to come in here and give me a heart attack,” Hanschen has to restrain himself from actually beating Melchior with the bat but Melchior doesn't look remorseful or even vaguely worried.  _ What a dickbag _ , Hanschen thinks and it somehow come out  _ fond _ .  _ Ugh _ . “What’re you doing here anyway?”

“I needed to…” Melchior trails off and Hanschen realizes with a twist in his stomach that Melchior's drunk. Not wasted, but he’s slurring his words enough to make it obvious that he’s definitely more tipsy. When it becomes clear that Melchior isn't going to say anything else, Hanschen sighs.

“You needed to what?” 

Melchior frowns, as though he can't even remember what he needed, before brightening. “Sleep! I needed to sleep.” 

“You know, you don't  _ actually _ live here,” Hanschen says but he still helps Melchior up and drags him into Hanschen’s bedroom.

“Greg choose the bar,” Melchior slurs, snuggling into the bed, “‘T was closer to here.”

“Greg?” Hanschen asks, trying to control his own jealousy.  _ He's not yours. _

Melchior hums into the pillow, “Ice cream guy.”

“Ice cream guy,” Hanschen repeats, equal parts incredulous and annoyed. But Melchior is already asleep and he has no right to be annoyed, anyway. 

Melchior--sprawled out and snoring slightly--is leaving just enough space that Hanschen could climb in bed too and pretend that the only reason he’s holding onto Melchior is that there wasn’t enough space. Hanschen considers it before a voice in his head that sounds remarkably like Wendla says  _ “Do not do this to yourself, Hans Johann Rilow, I swear to god” _ . Hanschen looks back at Melchior one more time and sighs, grabbing an extra blanket to pull out to the couch.  _ What did I do to deserve this _ .

* * *

 

The next morning, Hanschen wakes up to a sore neck, cheery whistling, and the smell of eggs. “I don’t even  _ have _ eggs,” He mutters.

“But the cute girl that lives near the stairs does,” Melchior singsongs, “Or, did. She might not have anymore but now we do.”

“ _ We _ ?” Hanschen asks, sitting up and squinting blearily at Melchior. He’s wearing a robe, Hanschen’s robe, and humming or whistling bits of some pop song as he scrambles eggs. It’s close enough to domestic that it makes Hanschen’s heart hurt. 

“We.” Melchior confirms, turning around, “I’m not just making apology eggs for you, I’m hungry too, you kn- Oh. Did I interrupt something, last night?”

“What?”

Melchior gestures at Hanschen’s body, and Hanschen remembers that he’s still wearing just the lingerie. “I don’t remember anyone sneaking out, but I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no, it’s fine, you’re-”

“Like, you’re allowed to sleep with other people, obviously, I wouldn’t-”

“Seriously, I just really like the feel of stockings, you didn’t-”

“I’m sorry.” Melchior says finally, stopping Hanschen, “I shouldn’t have just came here, but your place was the first thing I thought of and it  _ was _ closer to the bar.”

“It’s alright.” Hanschen says, then to be polite, “How was ice cream guy--Greg, right?”

“Gregor, actually, but he goes by Greg because, well, his name is  _ Gregor _ .” Melchior laughs and brings Hanschen a plate of eggs. He settles in down just a bit too close to Hanschen and their legs touch, nylon against skin. “He was nice but he wasn’t- He was missing something.”

Hanschen hums, secretly relieved. “So, no second date?”

Melchior shakes his head and then says, “And anyway, I probably shouldn’t start dating someone this close to the wedding anyway, we still have to pretend to be deeply in love and everything, at least for a little while.”

_ Pretend, right _ , Hanschen thinks, but he only says, “Only about a month and we’ll be free.”

“Yeah,” Melchior nods once, then stands and starts moving towards Hanschen’s bedroom. “Well, I’m going to get dressed, Wendla’s requested a lunch date.”

_ Just about a month and it’ll all be over _ , Hanschen thinks as he eats his eggs. It hasn’t been that long but he can’t imagine Melchior not cooking for them, not having his closet slowly taken over by Melchior’s stuff, not getting dumb texts from Melchior at all hours, not having Melchior. Hanschen slumps back on the couch.  _ Only a  _ month _! _

 

 

* * *

**_bonus fanart of melchior from last chapter_ **

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when will they get their shit together
> 
> no seriously when not even i know
> 
> pray for me to keep being shamed on twitter so i get chapters out faster and go listen to the [fanmix](http://8tracks.com/hatchergold/i-will-help-you-swim) and [praise juedou for the art](http://juedou.tumblr.com/)!!!


	7. remember me as i was not as i am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BACHELORS PARTY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have gotten SO MANY MESSAGES on curious cat and on BOTH of my twitters and on tumblr asking for this fic to update and ive been in a hanschen related slouch but HERE IT IS. this may sound like me complaining but thank u all for caring enough about this ridiculous little fic that u ask me to update it, it means A Lot to me
> 
> title from "Rat a Tat" by Fall Out Boy
> 
> enjoy darlings

There isn’t a bachelor party because it’s _Ernst_ , but Ernst does insist that Ilse, Hanschen, and Anna--who’s flown in just for the wedding--spend the night at his house.

Hanschen’s been tasked with bringing all the soft blankets he owns.

“All of them?” He asked over the phone yesterday, “Are you sure?”

“Of course! All of them,” Ernst had said, and now Hanschen was standing in front of Ernst’s door, arms full of soft blankets, Melchior behind him also carrying blankets and Hanschen’s duffel bag.

“Why do you have so many microfiber blankets?” Melchior asks after Hanschen rings the doorbell.

“I like being warm,” Hanschen says primly.

“There’s being warm and then there’s owning _twenty five microfiber blankets_ ,” Melchior says, shifting the blankets in his arms.

“I like being _really_ warm,” Hanschen shrugs the best he can, then, “And there are only twenty three.”

“ _Only twenty three,_ ” Melchior says mockingly, but before he can continue, Ernst opens the door.

“That is a lot of blankets,” Ernst says, moving aside.

“You did say to bring all of them.”

“You had… less? Before,” Ernst gestures vaguely, “When we were dating you only had like ten.”

“Yeah, well, I stress shop.” Hanschen says, weakly. Melchior gently bumps his shoulder against Hanschen’s. Ernst laughs awkwardly.

“Anyway! Anna’s over here in the living room, Wendla is on the deck talking to Ilse, and I have to finish popping up popcorn,” Ernst says, leading them further into the house.

Anna coos at them from her seat on the couch when they enter the living room. “You carried his bags, how sweet.”

Melchior drops the blankets and Hanschen’s duffel bag on the floor and Hanschen shoots him a short glare before moving all the blankets onto the couch. He may like Melchior-- _’May' l_ _ike Melchior_ , he thinks, _That’s an under-exaggeration if i’ve ever heard one_ \--but microfiber blankets are more important than anything else.

“Well, I was promised _anything_ I want in return for helping, so,” Melchior says.

“TMI!” Anna says, actually saying the letters TMI out loud because she’s ridiculous and making fake gagging noises as if she wasn’t caught with her hand up Thea’s shirt during an assembly back in high school.

“I’m getting a cat!” Wendla says as she walks in from the porch. “Oh, hey, Melchior’s here.”

As Melchior and Wendla greet each other, Anna waves Hanschen over.

“ _So_ ,” She says.

“So what?”

“ _Boyfriends_ , you and _Melchior Gabor_ ,” Anna replies, and when Hanschen’s face turns red she giggles. “Do you remember, back in high school, when you hated him? If only sophomore Hanschen could see you now. Little Hansi Rilow, all grown up.”

“Shut up,” He mumbles, and when Anna pinches his cheeks and Hanschen blushes more, he pushes her hands away, “How about you, how’s it going with that girl you met?”

Anna’s eyes light up and she begins to gush about her new girlfriend. Across the room, Melchior is chatting with Wendla. He looks relaxed, smiling softly with his hands in his pockets while Wendla happily chatters on. Hanschen watches him out of the corner of his eye, nodding to pretend that he’s still listening to Anna, and _wants_.

“Do you have to get going, Melchior?” Ernst’s voice breaks Hanschen out of his thoughts. Melchior nods softly.

“As much as I’d love to hang out with you all tonight, I have my own best man duties to perform,” Melchior says, “I should actually get going now.”

Everyone looks expectantly towards Hanschen.

“Goodbye?” Hanschen tries.

“Give him a _real_ goodbye,” Anna says.

Ernst chimes in, “We've watched you get close to public indecency _several_ times, you can't shock us.”

“It’s been _years_ since I've done anything like that. Come on, you guys can’t _really_ think that I’m still like- Oh, god."

Melchior has bent down and is holding onto Hanschen's head, looking deep into his eyes. "For the story, right?" He whispers. Hanschen nods weakly, stomach churning.

Melchior captures his lips, and Hanschen suddenly can't think of his guilt or his feelings or much of  _anything_ , anymore. Melchior is a fantastic kisser, good enough that Hanschen would probably choose to go without wifi over going without Melchior’s kisses, but when he has an _audience_. Melchior twists one hand into Hanschen’s hair and leaves the other resting on Hanschen’s cheekbone, alternating between stroking his cheek gently and pulling on his hair. Melchior pulls away with a lingering nip on Hanschen’s bottom lip, and suffice to say that Hanschen is a bit breathless afterwards.

“See you tomorrow, Hansi,” Melchior says.

Hanschen blinks, dazed, then mutters, “Bye.”

Melchior says goodbye to everyone and makes his way out, leaving Hanschen with Wendla and Anna and Ernst, all nearly bursting at the seams with joy.

“ _Please_ ,” He starts, but he doesn’t get any further than that when they all start talking.

“You guys are so cute!” Anna gushes.

“You could give me and Ilse a run for our money,” Wendla whistles appreciatively, even through the slightly worried look she throws him. He nods to her as the others laugh at her comment.

“If only Moritz and I could’ve waited another year,” Ernst says, “We could’ve had a double wedding.”

Wendla and Anna titter, but Hanschen’s head is spinning. The very _idea_ of marrying Melchior is dizzying. “We’ve only been dating for _four months_.”

“With a kiss like that, I’d think it was _at least_ twice that,” Anna says, and this sets everyone off giggling.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Hanschen says, “This is _Ernst’s_ bachelor party, can we please make fun of him instead?”

“But we have so much more fodder on you!” Wendla says, and Hanschen puts his face in his hands. _This is going to be a long night_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hate this chapter A Lot but i hope yall enjoyed. NEXT UP (coming who knows when): The wedding! and the reception, the conclusion of this piece, and an EPILOGUE
> 
> also: timeline for this fic, moritz+ernst had a Short Engagement of only 5 months bc they were just So In Love, so everything thats happened in the fic has happened mostly in the span of four months, besides the first chapter that happens right as the engagement is announced. its been a month since last chapter, and its now the Night Before The Wedding
> 
> kudos, comment, bookmark, etc


	8. the party isn't over tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the wedding!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello hello
> 
> this was supposed to be the last chapter. this is not the last chapter. enjoy anyway! i just started college so maybe expect the real last chapter and epilogue by the beginning of oct??? i wanna finish this fic before nano planning
> 
> i edited Minor Things, so like Ernst's groomspeople are now Anna, Wendla, and Hans; Moritz's are Melchior, Ilse, and Otto
> 
> title from patds miss jackson

The wedding is beautiful, because it’s Ernst and Moritz and they both wanted tons of flowers in the decor, because Wendla fought the wedding planner to make sure everything was perfect, because Hanschen gets to watch a boy that Hanschen once been in love with--a boy that Hanschen still kind of loves--marry the man of his dreams while surrounded by all of their friends and loved ones. Mrs. Robel gives Ernst away and Fanny Gabor gives Moritz, their vows are beautiful, and pretty much everyone cries.

They’re on their way to the reception now, and Hanschen is already anticipating it to be a bit of a mess. There are _five_ different caterers ( _We have to get stuff that all of our friends will like_ , Ernst had said) and the place they rented is a bit too small, but he’s sure that Moritz and Ernst will be too wrapped up in each other to care. _God,_ Hanschen thinks, _Five months ago, that would’ve killed me_. It’s amazing to think that five months ago he was head over heels for Ernst and now he can honestly say that, though there are bittersweet pangs of want and _If Only_ , he’s truly happy for Ernst and Moritz. Of course, the tradeoff is that Hanschen’s heart all but stops whenever he sees Melchior, but c’est la vie.

 _Speaking of_ , Hanschen thinks, looking around, _Where is Melchior?_ Because they’re both best men, the wedding day has been fantastically stressful for both Melchior and Hanchen, so Hanschen hasn’t really talked to Melchior at all since he dropped him off at Ernst’s last night. Earlier they had been playing messenger for the  grooms--because Moritz and Ernst are saps that still believe that directly communicating with your spouse before the wedding is bad luck--and obviously he had seen him during the service, in a suit that did _wonderful_ things for his body, but it’s not the same.

“Hey,” Hanschen says, grabbing Wendla as they walk in, “Have you seen Melchior?”

“I thought he was with you...” She trails off frowning, “You don’t think he would’ve-”  
“Skipped the reception? I would think that he was too afraid of Mrs. Robel to do that.”  
Wendla rolls her eyes, “Mrs. Robel is harmless. Mostly. Anyway, maybe he just needed a second, this is a very stressful day for him.”

It’s then that Hanschen remembers that Wendla and Melchior are best friends. She knows about Melchior and Hanschen, from Hanschen, but she’s been friends with Melchior since they decided that they were better as Just Friends after that pregnancy scare freshman year. She’s been with Melchior all throughout his life and she probably knows more about him than anyone else, Moritz included, so she’s probably been subject to many _many_ talks about how Melchior is in love with Moritz.

“Is he still...?” Hanschen gestures vaguely, unable to ask out loud. _Is he still in love with Moritz? Is he still not in love with me?_ Even the unsaid question twists his heart.

Wendla pats him on the shoulder sympathetically. “It’s better now but... He and Moritz have been friends since they were babies, and Melchior has loved him for nearly that long. It’s hard to get over.”

Hanschen nods and keeps his face neutral despite the lump in his throat. “Well, I have to go help people find their seats.”  
“And prepare for your toast!”

“God, don’t remind me,” Hanschen says. He’s had his toast ready for months, but he’s still worried that it’ll come off too transparent, too needy, too pained. He can’t ruin Ernst’s wedding because he’s emotional and sad.

“You’ll be great,” Wendla says, leaning in to kiss his cheek, “See you.”

Hanschen repeats the goodbye and goes to help an elderly woman to her table. Everything will be fine.

* * *

After everyone is seated and after they’ve all grabbed their plates of food, Hanschen stands up. He’s not really worried, he started working on his speech two days after Ernst gave him the role and he’s practiced every day for the last month, but it’s still a daunting task. He steps up to the microphone near the center of the room and clears his throat. It takes a few seconds for the guests to quiet down and once they do, he clears his throat again.

“Hello! I hope you’re all enjoying yourselves. For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Hans Rilow,” He says.

Here someone--probably Ilse, maybe Georg--interrupts and yells, _“Little Hansi!”_ Hanschen rolls his eyes.

“Yes, thank you _so_ very much for that,” He says dryly, drawing a few laughs from the crowd. “Anyway, I had the pleasure of being Ernst’s best man--and I do mean pleasure; Ernst is so low maintenance that he didn’t even want me to plan a real bachelor party, it’s been a dream,” More laughter, this time joined by Ernst’s. Hanschen smiles.

“I’ve been friends with Ernst since eighth grade, when our dear friend Anna Wheelan decided to shove her two friend groups together, and I’m going to tell you all a story that I don’t often like to talk about,” He pauses, watching as everyone--his friends especially--lean in in anticipation. “When we first met, I thought that Ernst and Moritz were dating. It wasn’t just my _impeccable_ gaydar that made me think that, they had this _spark_. Ernst was one of Moritz’s best friends and they had a _bond_ , something special that had made eight grade Hans think _Oh, they’re definitely dating_.

“Mind you, this was _eighth grade_ ; I was the only out student in the entire school, and I had only come out a month prior to this, but I asked them about it anyway--I was, once again, the _only_ not-straight kid I knew and I really _really_ wanted more friends like me. It about went as well as anyone can expect asking two closeted gay boys if they’re dating in the middle of the school day, in the _heavily populated_ lunch room, will go; meaning that they both freaked out and neither of them spoke to me for a week.” Hanschen has to pause as someone-- _definitely_ Thea--literally screams with laughter. He glances behind him at the grooms, both of their faces bright red as they recall the event. “Yes, I know, if only middle school Ernst and Moritz could see them now. Now, one reason that I shared this story was to prove that I _totally called_ _this,_ and to further affirm my right to say ‘ _I told you so_ ’ forever, but there are other reasons! I wanted to show you all that, even with a love like Ernst and Moritz’s, it doesn’t just _happen_. They didn’t know the second they met each other that they were destined to become That Couple that makes all their friends feel bad because they’re so cute.

“It took Ernst and Moritz over a _decade_ to get together, and that was with nine people and millions of little moments telling them that they were perfect for each other. I’m sure that middle school Ernst never could’ve imagined being where Ernst is today, as happy and in love as Ernst is today, because love is unpredictable. It sneaks up on you; you can be doing or feeling things for years and you won’t realize that you do them because of love. A warm feeling in your chest when you see your friend can be brushed off, setting your friend as your phone wallpaper can be explained away, or getting up early to make sure they eat and get them some coffee is ‘just a bro thing’ and you may never realize that the love of your life was right in front of you the whole time. It takes work and sincere thought and deep, unconditional caring.” Hanschen’s eyes skim over the crowd. He doesn’t see Melchior and he’s not sure if he’s thankful or upset, because he’s being embarrassingly transparent right now, completely bare. He smiles, mostly real, turning and raising his glass. “So let’s toast to Ernst and Moritz, because finding your forever isn’t easy, but they did it. Because they’re the real thing and I am _beyond_ happy for them. Cheers!”

Hanschen tosses back his drink and grins, greeted with applause. Before he can go back to his seat, he’s accosted by Ernst, coming up and hugging him.

“Thank you, Hanschen,” Ernst says, tears in his eyes despite--or maybe because of--his grin. Hanschen smiles back.

“Of course.” Hanschen says. He turns around but is stopped by Ernst’s hand on his arm.

“Hey, you’ve found it too, Hanschen,” Ernst says. Hanschen blinks, surprised.

He considers, for a second, telling Ernst the whole story--from beginning to end, the ‘one night stand’, the fake dating, everything--but it’s Ernst’s _wedding_. _Besides_ , he reasons, _You don’t want their pity_. Telling someone else everything, how it’s all an act and Hanschen is in too deep, and seeing the pity and worry in their eyes would make it all the more miserable, Hanschen thinks, so instead he just thanks Ernst and heads back to his seat beside Wendla as Anna makes her way up to speak next.

“You did well,” She says, “And now we only have Anna, Ilse, and Melchi.”

“You’re not speaking?” Hanschen asks, raising an eyebrow. Moritz and Wendla aren’t super close, but they still have their little ‘Pirate Squad’.

Wendla waves her hand, “I’m not big on public speaking. Ernst and Moritz know how much I love them without a flashy speech in front of everyone.”

Hanschen nods. Wendla has always poured her heart into her friends, she’s always aggressively love them, but she’s never been the person that’d yell it off a rooftop and she’s never needed to be. He tunes into Anna’s speech--about how she brought them together, both in friendship and in relationship--though he’s still casually looking around for Melchior. Wendla doesn’t seem worried about it but after all the fuss, the fact that Melchior would just _disappear_ worries Hanschen.

Ilse’s speech is both a pep talk and a series of anecdotes about Moritz calling her at absurd times because he’s freaking about about his feeling for Ernst, including the story of how he bought their engagement rings at three o’clock in the morning with Ilse coaching him over facetime. When it’s Melchior’s turn, no one stands up. Moritz looks inquisitively at Hanschen, but Hanschen just shrugs. He’s a bit more than worried now, Melchior knows how much this means to Moritz and he wouldn’t miss it for no reason, but he has no idea where he could be.

The wedding continues after an awkward moment, Ernst steps down from the newly wed table and cracks a joke about Melchior starting to party a bit too early and everyone goes back to eating and drinking and celebrating, but Hanschen turns to Wendla and frowns. “When did you last see Melchior?”

“We were at the chapel, he waved me and Ilse off after pictures because he said that he had left something inside. At the time, I had thought that he was just trying to sneak away to see you but-”

“Why would he want to see me?” Hanschen asks. Wendla knows about how everything is fake, why would she think that Melchior would want to see Hanschen?

Wendla’s eyes widen, as though she’s realizing something, and she laughs awkwardly, “You know, to keep up the charade and maybe to... commiserate in misery?”  
It’s a weak attempt at a lie, though Hanschen can’t tell why she’s lying. He frowns at her, brow furrowed in confusion, until he suddenly understands. “You thought he wanted pity sex! Of course, I get it.”

“How are smart men so dumb?” Wendla asks the air, and sighs as though her life is exceedingly difficult. “Yes, sure Hans, I thought he was going to find you for pity sex in the church.”  
“I would’ve sucked him off if I had known,” Hanschen says, half because it’s true and half because he knows that Wendla doesn’t like to hear detail about his sex life with Melchior and he sort of wants to gross her out. She disappoints by only rolling her eyes in response.

“Regardless of what you would’ve or would not have done, he’s probably still there if he’s not here,” She says, then suddenly looking worried, “I hope nothing happened to him.”  
Unwanted images of Melchior laying beaten up in an alleyway flash through Hanschen’s head, turning him pale and nearly sick with worry.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Hanschen breathes, “I have to go look for him.”

“That’s not what I meant, Hanschen,” Wendla tries to say, but Hanschen is already up and running towards Ernst and Moritz.

“I’m so sorry about this, but I have to go.”  
“We haven’t cut the cake yet,” Moritz says, “I mean, we can’t stop you but-”  
“It’s Melchior,” Hanschen cuts in.

Moritz waves it off. “I’m sure he’s fine. He probably just got lost or got in a fight with another drunk guy and is currently charming a police officer into letting him out.”

‘You’re probably right, he’s probably fine, but no one has seen him since the wedding and,” Hanschen stops helplessly. His words had been coming out in a panicked rush but suddenly he can’t find anything to say that would explain the fear that’s currently clutching his heart.

“I understand,” Ernst says after a moment, taking one of Moritz’s hands in his. “He’s your forever. Go get him.”

“He’s not,” Hanschen starts, but he finds that he doesn’t have the words to finish it. He closes his mouth. “Thank you.”

“Good luck!” Moritz says, and then Hanschen is off.

 _Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time: THIS PIECE FINALLY ENDS
> 
> also if u were following my twitter and dreading the drunken melchior best man speech, dont worry! i cut that out! what happens now is gonna be Much Worse lol


	9. i wanna be more than you're thinking of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DAS ENDE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FREE AT LAST FREE AT LAST THANK GOD ALMIGHTY WE ARE FREE AT LAST
> 
> title from, fittingly enough, "I Wanna Be Free" by patd

Since the church is the last place anyone saw Melchior, Hanschen figures that it might as well be the first place he checks. Thank god he did, because there in the parking lot is Melchior’s car.

“Now, what are you doing here?” Hanschen mutters to himself, gently tapping the back of the car. He wants to believe that Melchior is fine, but he’s still worried as he walks into the church. It’s quiet but he can hear the quiet strains of music. After a drive where Hanschen could hear nothing but the sound of his own blood rushing and his solid thrumming thoughts of _be okay be okay be okay_ , even the slight noise is comforting.

“Melchior?” Hanschen calls as he enters. He doesn’t get a reply, but as the music gets louder as he nears the chapel.

 _Is that Adele?_ Hanschen wonders, brow furrowing. As he pushes aside the heavy chapel doors, he can tell that it’s _definitely_ Adele and that Melchior is singing-- _wailing_ might be a more appropriate term--along as Adele claims that they _Could’ve had it all-l-l_.

Melchior isn’t in Hanschen’s direct eyeline as he surveys the chapel--stripped bare of all the decorations that they had used for the ceremony, dimly lit--but since the music and Melchior’s voice appear to be coming from the front, Hanschen follows them there.

“...Played it, played it, played it to the bea- Hanschen!” Melchior yelps when Hanschen comes upon him, laying in a pew with a bottle of Jose Cuervo. “You’re supposed to be at the reception!”

Hanschen’s face softens now that he knows that Melchior is safe, if intoxicated. “You’re supposed to be there too.”

Melchior waves Hanschen off, sitting up. “They don’t want me there, not _really_. It’s just _pity_.”

“You’re drunk,” Hanschen says, rolling his eyes and taking a seat next to Melchior.

Melchior shakes his bottle. “It’s still almost full, Hansi, if anything I’m _tipsy_. Besides, Moritz all but said it this morning. ‘ _I know how you used to feel, so thank you for doing this,_ ’ is as close to ‘ _I felt really bad for you so I involved you in my wedding because you’re a miserable and sad little boy,_ ’ as Moritz will get.”

“He did not say that.”

“But he might as well have,” Melchior says. He huffs, letting his body fall limp on the pew. “He’s been so nice, he’s _always_ been so nice, and I used to think that he was the only person that I’d ever love but now...”  
“But now he’s married Ernst,” Hanschen completes, heart sinking. _Of course Melchior is still deeply in love with Moritz, I shouldn’t have expected any different_.

Melchior blinks at Hanschen for a second before scowling and looking at the ground. “Yeah, sure.”

“Melchior, I know how it feels, but it’s not just pity.” Melchior scoffs into the ground and Hanschen frowns. “Moritz cares about you, Melchior, I- We all care a lot about you. No one would do that to you.”

“Ernst wouldn’t do that to _you_ , you mean. You need it to be real for me so that you can pretend it’s real for you and you don’t have to face the cruel reality of everyone pitying you.” Melchior snorts, rollings his eyes. “You want to keep living in this little fantasy world where you’re going to be in Ernst’s life forever, right? Well, Hanschen, life isn’t some- some _Hallmark movie_ , Ernst and Moritz aren’t going to magically fall out of love so that Ernst can run back into your arms! It’s _over_ , Hanschen, they’re in love and-”

 “I’m not in love with Ernst anymore!” Hanschen yells, cutting Melchior off. Melchior, who had begun to lean forward aggressively, is taken back.

“What?”  
“I watched Ernst get married and I barely felt anything,” Hanschen explains, “I’m not in love with him anymore. I know you still love Moritz and I get that it’s hard, but you’re being a _dick_ and I’m not going to sit here and let you pretend that you know me.”

Melchior stares blankly at Hanschen. “I- What? You’re not-? What?”

Hanschen huffs. “I think I explained myself perfectly well, Melchior. I really just came to check on you, but if you’re fine then I’ll be off. I do, as you said, have a reception to be at.”

“Hanschen, wait,” Melchior says, grabbing Hanschen’s arm as Hanschen tries to stand. When Hanschen looks back down into his eyes, Melchior looks more sober than he has the entire conversation. _Don’t do this to yourself_ , Hanschen thinks, but he still sits back down.

“You have a minute,” Hanschen says.

“I’m sorry, I- I’m still in love with Moritz, I think--I’ve never _not_ loved him, I don’t know _how_ to not be in love with him--but that’s not-” Melchior sighs, running a hand over his face. “I couldn’t stand up there and talk about love and harmony when all the love I’ve ever felt has been unrequited, and I couldn’t bare to watch you put on a fake face and give a fake speech about how happy you were for them.”

“But I thought it was only Moritz...”Hanschen’s brow furrows, “Did Greg-”

Melchior laughs, sharp and incredulous, “Oh my god, you really don’t know. I was only into Greg because he had blonde hair and blue eyes, but when I went out with him he wasn’t- He was a copy of what I wanted, not the real thing.”

Hanschen’s heart jumps. He wants to believe but... “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“God, are you always this difficult?” Melchior asks, eyes uplifted towards the church’s painted ceiling, “Don’t answer that, I already know the answer’s yes, but _god_ , this is embarrassing enough with you making me spell it out. Don’t worry, I know you don’t feel the same and it’s fine. We can keep having casual sex, if you want, I won’t make a big thing about it, I promise.”

“I,” Hanschen starts before just letting his mouth hang open, dumbstruck. “You like me?”

“How many times do I have to say it?” Melchior groans, “ _Yes!_ I, for better or for worse, _like_ you.”

“And this isn’t just some rebound thing, right?” Hanschen asks cautiously. Melchior makes a noise like a dying cat and drops his head into his hands, muttering ‘ _oh my god_ ’ over and over again. _I can’t believe this_. “Can I kiss you?”

“What?” Melchior asks, head jerking up, face bright red in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I mus have misheard you, what did you say?”  
Hanschen clears his throat and looks away from Melchior’s inquisitive eyes. “I just, I like you too? I have for a while actually, and I didn’t say anything because of Moritz but I... I’d like to kiss you.”

Melchior blinks twice before a soft, slow smile breaks out on his face. “You like me?”

Hanschen huffs, turning away as he feels heat build on his face. “I made that clear.”

Hanschen feels a gentle pressure on his face, turning his head back towards Melchior. They lock eyes, Melchior’s twinkling despite the nervous tilt of his eyebrows.

“I like you too.”

“Yes, we’ve been over this,” Hanschen says, despite himself, laughing a bit. Melchior’s smile widens. “Are we going to just sit here all night exchanging ‘I like you’s or are you going to- mm!”  
Melchior leans in and steals the words from Hanschen’s mouth. They’ve kissed so many, _so many_ , times in these last four months but this is _different_. Most of their kisses have been teasing or needy or hot, but this one is slow and soft and caring and Hanschen, well he _melts_.

“We could’ve been doing this for _so long_ ,” Melchior whines when they finally separate, “Next time, let’s just talk to each other.”

Hanschen grins, giddy from the kiss and the confessions and the _Next time_. “Well, we’ve got some time to figure it out, right?”

Melchior grins back before diving back in for another kiss. Yeah, they’ll figure it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS NOT ACTUALLY THE END  
> there will be an epilogue, probably something grossly cute and domestic, but yall... im so glad that im done with this. this is like the first multichap that ive ever actually FINISHED in like forever and im so happy,,,,,,,,
> 
> it's been a Wild ride and I'm so glad that yall stuck with me, look out for the epilogue and maybe (MAYBE, IM NOT PROMISING ANYTHING) some extra mini fics?????? it is to be decided, esp bc i have Other Things To Do (including college, the Sad Wendla Fic, a melchiotto multichap, the GODDAMN BODYGUARD AU, etc etc etc)
> 
> Thank you so much for staying to this point, thank you so much for supporting me, thank you so much for being _here_. You're all my inspiration, truly, so from the very bottom of my heart: thank you!   
>  I love you all and I hope that this fic has brought you to hellchior, xoxoxoxox

**Author's Note:**

> [Main Tumblr](http://www.liveinlivingcolor.tumblr.com) | [Writing Blog](http://nacreousglowclouds.tumblr.com/) | [Personal Twitter](http://twitter.com/squidias)


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